


The Calm Before the Storm

by tersa (alix)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up just after the team's return to the Normandy from the destruction of the Human Reaper at the Collector Base, Christian Shepard deals with the immediate aftermath of saving the crew, recovering from the assault, and the newly minted shift in his relationship with Miranda. (Implied past relationship with Ashley Williams.)</p><p>Written shortly after finishing the ME2 playthrough that spawned the character, its intention is to fill in the gap between the Suicide Mission itself and the final holovid confrontation with The Illusive Man at the end of ME2 and give m!Shepard and Miranda a little bit more relationship than the quick shag in the engine room of the game before going into ME3. This is the same m!Shepard used as  reference in my short fic, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/258684/chapters/415083">"My body is ready"</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/258684/chapters/415172">"I regret nothing"</a>, and this would take place between those two.</p><p>Contains no ME3 spoilers. Slice of life.</p><p>(Edited after posting for HTML fail that ate part of the later dialogue.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in October 2011 but only recently had revisions completed on it--and no changes have been made in light of the events of ME3.

He’d survived going beyond the Omega-4 Relay, taken out an entire Collector ship, and saved humanity--again--with minimal losses to his crew, and his day had just begun.

Clapping Joker on the shoulder in gratitude, he double-timed it down the corridor of CIC to the elevator and punched the button to go down a level. When the doors opened, he pulled a hard left and immediately began having to thread his way around the prone and seated bodies of the Normandy’s crew that spilled out of the med bay.

“Mordin,” Christian barked as he passed through the doors, dragging the harried salarian doctor’s attention around to him, “what do you need?”

“An entire team of doctors,” came Mordin’s clipped reply. “Lacking that, medics.”

He caught sight of Miranda at one of the other tables, ministering to Ken, and, past her, a wan Dr. Chakwas working on Gabby. With a jerk of his chin, Christian asked, “Is she up to this?”

“Probably not,” Mordin replied. “But she is a doctor. Unlikely to stand down.”

“Point me at someone I’m not likely going to kill. My skills are rusty, but I have had some training.”

“Full of surprises. Worst off in here. Those out in the hall awaiting attention. Yes, you can start there.”

“Keep an eye on Dr. Chakwas. If she needs relieved, I’m giving you the authority to order her to do so.”

“Understood, Commander.”

It was hours before the last crewman was checked out, most of them shocky and dehydrated but otherwise okay. Christian had worked his way back into the infirmary to find Dr. Chakwas asleep in one of the beds and Mordin swaying on his feet, his normally vibrant skin paled to a sickly dun as he examined the last patient, Yeoman Chambers. A glance over at Miranda on the other side of the table showed she was doing only a little better. She soldiered on stoically but her pale skin was chalky. Christian swerved to the holopad near the entrance, keeping his voice down but garnering a sharp look from Miranda when he said, “EDI, what’s the status?”

“All systems normal, Commander. No unusual activity detected.”

He clenched his jaw in protest to the decision, but said, “You think you can handle things for a few hours?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Alright. Hold her steady, and alert Joker and I if anything comes up. Joker--”

“Commander?”

“I want you to go get some shut eye. I need you sharp tomorrow.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Amusement colored his voice when he replied. “Lieutenant, that’s an order. Good work today. I’ll see if I can get you some kind of medal.”

“How about four weeks vacation on the beach at Maui?”

Despite his weariness, Christian grinned. “Don’t push your luck.”

“You’re such a slave driver.”

He turned away from the display to find Mordin washing his hands over a basin and said, “Status?”

“Everyone treated. Need rest and sustenance. Full recovery expected in one to five days.”

“Good work. And thanks. Why don’t you go get some rest yourself, you look terrible.”

“Feel terrible. Good to know it shows. But, need to stay here, look after everyone. Will be fine, just need to get some food.”

“I can wait for you to do that.. And Mordin?” Christian offered a hand out. “Thanks for today. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome, Commander. Feel bad for losing Thane. If only had done better researching countermeasures to drones--”

“Thane was dying,” Christian broke in to the litany. “He took this mission knowing he had nothing to lose, and he gave his life for a worthy goal. It was an honorable death, and I’ll make sure Kolyat knows that.”

Mordin dipped his head quickly. “Yes. Fortunate, really, not to lose more,” he said before staggering out to the mess.

It left Christian alone with Miranda and a few other crewmembers asleep or unconscious, their vitals beeping gently on the displays. “How are you holding up?” he asked quietly.

“Tired,” she admitted, “but amazed we managed to recover everyone. You did well today, Commander.”

“Christian,” he corrected insistently. “Aren’t we a little past titles?”

A corner of her mouth turned up in a flicker of bemusement. “Maybe.”

Giving a quick look around to assure himself everyone was out, his gaze returned to her while asking softly, “Stay with me tonight.”

“I’m exhausted, Commander,” she said with an incorrigible tilt to her half-smile. “I’m not sure if now is a good time.”

“So am I. But I’d still like it if you would.”

She made a show of checking Kelly’s vitals on the vid screen above her bed, then her shoulders slumped a little, relaxing. “Alright. But let me take a shower and get something to eat first.”

“I can have both in my cabin...” he trailed off suggestively.

Miranda grinned wryly. “I’ll see you _later_ , Commander.”

With a smirk, he said, “Miss Lawson.”

#####

Miranda and Mordin had been right--before a shower, he desperately needed food. He’d pushed it aside during the worst of the crisis, but now that the adrenaline had passed, his body was reminding him of the heavy toll combat stress and the extended use of biotics had taken. Scavenging in the mess, he pulled out a quart of electrolyte drink and three MREs, wolfing down the first one on the elevator up to the loft and the second while he stripped out of his clothes. The shower he took went two minutes longer than usual, allowing him the indulgence of letting the hot water sluice over his skin. The Illusive Man could bill him for the waste. He’d earned it.

By the time he’d pulled on a tank top and pants and was working on the third meal, washing it down with the drink, he was ready for his bunk.

The door hissing open woke him from his doze, an arm crooked over his eyes. He pulled it away blearily to see Miranda saunter in looking rejuvenated and dressed similarly to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your uniform,” he remarked, then grinned. “Except the time I saw you _out_ of your uniform.”

“I figured today was a special occasion,” she said, drawing up to the foot of his bed only to fall to a four-pointed kneel, crawling up along his body.

Memory flashed of another time, another bunk, another woman--Ashley--doing the same thing, and his grin faltered. Whether Miranda caught it or not, he couldn’t tell, but when she drew up to him, she rolled to her side, fitting herself against him. He curved an arm around her, a hand closing over her waist, and she settled her head against the crook of his shoulder. Realizing he should reply to her, he said, “Defeating the Collectors? Saving the crew? Or living to tell the tale?”

“Yes, to all three?” she murmured, curling an arm around his midsection. “I hope you planned on sleeping just now, because that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” she said with tart amusement in her fading voice. “You should do the same, Commander.”

He _was_ exhausted and closed his eyes. “Yes, Miss Lawson.”

#####

He knew this place more intimately than anywhere else in his life, the ramshackle buildings, the overripe smell of squalor. This particular street of San Angeles had been his office, his turf for the greater part of a decade, the feel of it ingrained in his bones as much as the feel of the pistol in his hands. But at the same time, it was wrong. He _knew_ with certain clarity that he had left here, moved on. So why was he back?

Overhead, a huge ship hung point down in the brassy sky.

He was not alone. “What is that thing?” Kaidan asked from his left elbow, voice tinny through the comm in his helmet.

“Reaper,” Christian spat.

“Trouble, skipper,” Ashley said from his right, the muzzle of her rifle coming up, and his attention went forward. Every manner of foulness burst forth around the corner where Domino would play his flute, hoping for handouts that never came. Collectors, geth, and husks--some glowing blue, some red, some with recognizable origins, some without--spilled down the street, _his_ street, coming towards him. With a gesture, he lashed out and one of the leading abominations stopped, wracked by the energy, but three more stepped around it. Another hurtled backward into the mass following while the rat-tat-tat of the matlock clattered and another two fell.

“There’s too many of them!” Kaidan screamed.

“Fall back!” Christian ordered. “There’s a defense point just behind--“ A *WHUMP* of a grenade launcher cut him off, but rather than an explosion, he turned to find a shell embedded in Kaidan’s mid-section, glowing the same color blue as the cracks splitting his skin.

“Commander,” Kaidan said in a panic, falling towards him, and reflexively Christian grabbed Kaidan’s arms to steady him. The glow reached his eyes, turning brown irises cerulean. Knowledge crashed in with horror, and Christian tried to push Kaidan away, only to have clawed fingers lock around his biceps.

Thrashing, Christian tried to break free, but Kaidan--the husk--was too strong, and it dragged him through the horde to the sound of Ashley screaming, “Shepard! Shepard! Christian!” futilely.

The Human Reaper larva crawled towards him, metal fingers digging into the broken asphalt, its red eyes glowing balefully as it fixed on him. <<We are coming,>> the Reaper’s voice came from nowhere and everywhere. The images of the Prothean beacon pounded against Christian’s skull, leaving him straining against his constraint. <<You cannot fight it, only delay the inevitable. This is your destiny, Shepard.>>

“Christian!”

He woke with a struggle, arms tangling with those trying to pin him down until he threw them off to surge upwards to a seat. He panted for breath, cold sweat sheening his skin and droplets trickling down his spine.

“EDI, lights,” Miranda called out in peremptory tone, then more gently, “Are you alright?” Soft hands touched his back and arm, and he shied away, unable to tolerate the touch. With a lurch, he came to his feet, making for the head, and turned the faucet on with a shaky hand to splash cold water his face. He left the water running for the soothing quality to the sound while he propped himself over the sink, composing himself.

He didn’t know how long it was—several minutes at least—before he flinched to hear movement in his room. Footsteps padded to the doorway, pausing there, and Miranda asked, “What was that?”

His breath came out in a ragged bark of disbelief. “A nightmare. A vision. I don’t know anymore.”

“What did you see?”

“Earth,” he replied, head hanging heavily between his hunched shoulders. “The Reapers invading Earth. And that thing we destroyed at the Collector base. Kaidan—“

“Kaidan Alenko?” she asked, sounding startled.

“Yes. They turned him into a husk.”

She went silent then, until he pulled himself together and straightened up to turn and face her. “We knew going into this that the Collectors were only one threat to take down. What you saw is what we’re trying to prevent.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said harshly.

Her mouth crimped into a thin line and her tone became flinty as she shifted her weight back on her heels. “I should go, I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and—“

“Wait,” he said, and, when she did, he took two strides to close the distance to her. He took her waist between his hands, asking, “Don’t go.”

There was a moment when they stood poised on the cusp, Miranda deciding how to respond to his softly spoken request and Christian awaiting it, but when she didn’t immediately withdraw, he furthered his plea by tilting his head down to kiss her. The shock of it ignited desire, but more than that, a desperate need, not of lust, but for comfort, for contact, as a way to sear away the remnants of his dream in something real and good. Dragging her hips towards his, his mouth moved until her lips parted, and his tongue slipped between towards hers, eliciting a shuddering groan and the feel of her hands coming up to take his face between them.

While the first time—just yesterday, but it felt like forever ago—had been the culmination of weeks of coquetry and flirtatious teasing, this time was more raw, more true, no manufactured setting or planning. He picked her up by the thighs—again—feeling her legs wrap around his waist, but only to carry her over to his bed, pressing her back onto it while he covered her with his body, kissing her in panting breaths the whole time. There was urgency to his motions as he undressed her and himself, but he took his time, being thorough in exploring her throat with his mouth, his suckling of her breasts, and down the firm flatness of her belly to between her thighs, her hands going once again to his head as she moved against his tongue, moaning his name. It was his tipping point, and he dragged himself away to lay even with her, taking himself in a hand to find her opening until the tip sank into flesh, then slowly buried the length in her willing flesh. Control failed him when she arched into him hard, her cries becoming incoherent, high-pitched pants and he was riding her, all thoughts of Collectors or Reapers or any sorts of horrors obliterated by the solitary sensation of pleasure, the purest act of being alive, of the drive of humanity’s survival, until he came in a savage thrust that emptied him until he was spent.

His muscles trembled in the aftermath, and he caught himself only enough to collapse to his elbows around her sides, forehead resting against her collarbone. She was still caught in the throes of her climax, and he shifted his hips, feeling renewed waves of contractions flow down his shaft until she shuddered and relaxed abruptly. Her hands touched him, on the nape of his neck, across her back, and he allowed it, although in the hypersensitive post-coital state, they seemed to burn. It subsided after a time, and he caught his breath, feeling her chest rise and fall under him as she did the same, until the trembling in his limbs passed and he could prop himself up again.

A faint smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “You called me by my name,” he said.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“Just now,” he said, lifting a hand to stroke sweat-dampened hair away from her face. “It was your voice I heard calling me out of my dream.”

“You can’t prove that.”

His eyebrows arched along with a widening of his smile, and he started to say, “EDI—” before she forced him into a kiss, effectively cutting him off.

“Yes, Shepard?” EDI asked.

He broke away after several moments, meeting Miranda’s mirthful gaze with his own. “Nevermind. What time is it?”

“It is 0312.”

Lowering his voice, to Miranda he said, “I don’t know about you, but I think we deserve some more shut eye.”

“I completely agree, Commander.”

He groaned and withdrew from her. “Seriously, we’re back to that again?”

Her impish smile flashed. “Always.”

#####

The lights were dimmed when he opened his eyes again--EDI’s work, no doubt, which he couldn’t decide if he was grateful for or concerned about the level of monitoring it implied--and Miranda a warm presence beside him. For some reason, he thought she’d be gone by the time he awoke this time and found himself surprisingly grateful that she wasn’t.

He rolled towards her, fitting himself against the curve of her back and thighs, an arm draping across her midsection. Stirring, her hand came to cover his, fingers parting his to lace together. He had no more than kissed her upturned shoulder, however, when EDI’s voice intruded. “Shepard, the Illusive Man wishes to speak to you.”

That woke Miranda up fully, and Christian grumpily asked, “Now?”

“Yes, Shepard.”

Miranda shifted to her back to look up at him, expectant for his reply, and he sighed inwardly. “Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He dropped down to kiss her with a fleeting press of his tongue that was more promise than intent. “Thank you,” he said in undertone.

“For what?” she asked with a hint of mischief failing to mask her surprise.

“For staying.”

Her smile dimpled her cheek. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“I don’t know why not,” he said, shifting himself out of the bed and grabbing for his clothes. “He’s already not going to like what I have to say.”


End file.
